Page 17 of Heartbreak Kings
Marcus persuaded.
I did not understand what the other three did.
But I knew that just getting the chance to interview them would give a whole additional dimension to my coverage of the campus backlash.
Maybe I should wear a recording device.But not only did that feel dishonest, I also suspected they would somehow catch me. I would have to get proper rest ahead of time to make sure my mind was sharp enough to either conceal the device well or to retain all the details without help. If I showed up at all. Though,I wanted to. But I had just plowed through an exhausting day, nearly been assaulted, and dealt with the prospect of not one but two hot Alpha Omegas who seemed to have an interest in me that went well beyond their desire to do damage control for their fraternity’s reputation. Marcus’s eyes had shown a tendency to wander over my face and body like a caress when he wasn’t paying attention, or thought I wasn’t.
Could I take advantage of that?No.Never in my life had I used my sexuality to manipulate people, and I didn’t feel like changing that now. But I definitely wanted to have as much control over the situation as I could. I was walking into enemy territory.
I flopped into my desk chair and booted up my laptop. Something metallic slipped out of my coat pocket and clattered to the floor. I gazed down—and felt a finger of cold run down my back at the sight of the scissors. I slid my hand over my hair, safely tucked away in a prim bun. Those fabric scissors would have chopped a ragged hole in my hair. Maybe the scissors should have been turned in as evidence. I wondered how to cover the altercation on my blog. I would have to include Marcus’s stepping in for it to be accurate, but somehow, that made me reluctant to talk about the incident at all.
I finished booting up my laptop, leaving the scissors where they lay on the floor. I refused to let this garbage scare me. But something about attacking my hair felt personal. I kept reaching back and checking my bun to reassure myself it was there. I wanted a hairdo that would be harder to grab—harder to cut. Maybe a touch punk, but still professional-looking. But I was short on cash, even with the expense allowance from my scholarship helping me out.
Emails from home. Mom had written a rambling one after today’s trip to see the fall foliage. My old school was already looking for donations, which made me laugh.Can’t get blood from a stone, boys.I had more hate mail to go through, along with the comment threads attached to many of my videos. Nothing out of the ordinary, until I opened my blog and noticed a donation alert in the upper right-hand corner of the frame.Oh hey, one of the college kids or locals sent me a few bucks for coffee.I opened a fresh tab and logged in to the donation site to see what I had received.Then I just sat there for a while, blinking at my screen, certain it was a mistake.
What is going on here?
Someone had plopped $1500 into my donation account sometime between last night and early this morning. I did some digging. It was an anonymous donation. Not a glitch. Not a mistake. I was $1500 richer now than I had been two days ago.
I wanted to yell. Celebrate. There was always the chance that whoever it was would cancel their donation—but the money was as good as in my hands.
Definitely going to go get my hair professionally done before I went to this “meeting” with the boys of Alpha Omega. I needed to sock away as much of that money as possible, but not all. I was going to have a bit of fun first. Just the tiniest bit of personal reward and upping my professional image.
I wanted to look as good—as put-together, as professional—as humanly possible when I showed up at that fraternity house and when I reported on it afterward. My followers needed to see that despite everything going on, the scissors, the drama, the weird, popular guys from Alpha Omega who wouldn’t ever be entirely honest about their interest in me, I was doing all right. I knew I would be an absolute mess after I came back from this little dinner meeting of theirs, even if it went well. I was tired. I had a full class load plus everything else, and I would have to be on my toes throughout the encounter.
I checked my watch. I would have just enough time for a proper hair appointment, a nap, and a change of clothes before heading out to the fraternity house at nine. I should tell Mama about the windfall. I should send some back to her to help her through the winter.
I ended up calling her about it as soon as I got back from the hairdresser. I kept checking myself in the mirror as we caught up, running my fingers through my curly hair that was now cut into a short, chic bob.
“So, how do you suddenly have money?” Mom asked.
“It was an anonymous donation. I don’t understand who sent it. But at least one person on this campus supports me.” It couldn’t have been Billy. He didn’t have the cash. It could have been a guilty faculty or administration member. Maybe the mother of one of the rat bastards who had attacked me, quietly supporting me behind her family’s back. Maybe someone else who had read my story and had the cash to spare. “I do kind of wish I knew who did it.”
“Well, can they take it back?” She had that mix of excitement and worry in her voice that she got every time something good happened unexpectedly—as if she didn’t quite trust it not to be taken away again.
“No. I already pulled it out and stashed it in my savings account.” I smiled as she made approving noises. “I want to send you some of it.”
There was a long pause. “Oh, I can’t accept any money from you, sweetheart. I’m the one who should send you something.”
“Yes, well, my blog finally earned me some money, and I want to share it. I’m transferring five hundred into the family bank account.” I put it in the firmest tone I could, but she twittered in protest anyway. “Mama, please let’s not get into an argument over it,” I cut her off. “I just wanted to let you know what was going on.”
“I…” She trailed off, doubtless thinking of all the repairs the house needed, the winter oil delivery, the necessity to stock up on food in case she got snowed in.
“Mama, come on. I’m keeping most of it for myself. I just want you to have something to help this winter since I can’t be there.” My heart was beating fast, and I felt a sudden surge of apprehension.Will she be all right up on the mountainside without me?
“All right,” she sighed. “Thank you. It will help. I just don’t want you feeling like you must look after me. You’re too young to fuss over me. Wait until I am old and can’t work for myself.”
“I know, Mama,” I responded warmly. “But this will give me peace of mind too.”
“Well,” Another pause. “Get something nice for yourself while you are fussing about me. Then save the rest.”
“Oh, I did. I got my hair done. I’ll send you a photo.” I sounded so excited that it embarrassed me a little.Yes, it was pretty, and yes, I loved it.But normally, I didn’t spend a lot of money on my appearance. I had too many other, more important things to pay attention to.
Unfortunately, Mom knew this just as well as I did and picked up on it right away. “Your hair? What’s the occasion? You don’t have a date with one of those boys, do you?”
“Uh—”Oh boy.I had just put my foot in it. “Um, I’m interviewing the leaders of the most powerful campus fraternity for my blog,” I blurted. “They’re wealthy and influential, and I need to look like their equal.”
“By having your hair done? Why didn’t you buy a suit or something? I want to see this hairdo.” She sounded so skeptical that I had to squash a surge of panic.
